Innocence

Prologue

"All in favour of Remus John Lupin being administered the Dementor's Kiss?"

Come not, when I am dead,

To drop thy foolish tears upon my grave,

Minister Arthur Weasley glanced around the courtroom that was filled with an uneasy silence. Hands went up slowly, but they went up.

For a moment Albus Dumbledore was the only one refraining for voting in favour, but then his hand also went up. Clandestine whispers broke out around the chamber; this was the first time that the old Hogwarts Headmaster had voted for such a sentencing. The current Headmistress, a Minerva McGonnagall, sat beside him - tears streaming down her face.

"I've failed," she mouthed silently to herself.

"I should have known."

To trample round my fallen head,

And vex the unhappy dust thou wouldst not save.

The war had transformed everyone.

Even the lightest of hearts had become heavy with sorrow. The Wizarding world needed someone to blame. For sure, the war was over, but their saviour was gone. Everyone one in the courtroom had a scarlet cloth tied around their upper arm, and the blame rested utterly on the wizard bound before them. The sheer hatred in the room had raised the temperature noticeably.

The Boy Who Lived had become the Boy Who Destroyed Voldemort. No one knew exactly how the young Potter had done it, and now no one would know. Some people theorised that Lupin knew, but if he did, he wasn't forthcoming, even under Veritaserum. After that final confrontation, Harry had port-keyed to the Order's headquarters in Hogsmeade, in the old Shrieking Shack. Almost all of the Order were out and about frantically trying to figure out what was happening, so the only wizard there to welcome Harry was Remus Lupin.

When Mad Eye Moody arrived an hour later, checking in to tell Remus the good news, he found the Boy Who Lived dead on the floor, covered in bloody wounds - a look of surprise on his face. But his attacker hadn't gotten far; in fact Lupin had only gone to the next room, where he was wholeheartedly emptying the contents of his stomach into a basin.

There let the wind sweep and the plover cry;

But thou, go by.

All hope faded from the Werewolf's eyes, and he slumped in the chair. It was over. What had begun years ago was in its final days. The rest of the proceedings passed without Remus Lupin's attention. He didn't struggle when a pair of Aurors walked him from the room, barely protested when they clapped his wrists in silver cuffs, though the look of excruciating pain was clear.

Child, if it were thine error or thy crime

I care no longer, being all unblest:

A week elapsed as Remus lay almost catatonic in a cell. He had one visitor, the best friend of the late Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley. He claimed it was for closure, but the visit lasted all of two minutes before the redhead stormed out.

"I respected you. And you're... Pathetic. I can't even hate you anymore, not now. You're not worth it."

A full moon came and went, but even the Wolf was listless.

Wed whom thou wilt, but I am sick of time,

And I desire to rest.

The Friday dawned fine and clear, far hotter than recent weeks. Without needing to be told, Remus knew that it was the day. Moving himself for the first time in the week, he moved to wash himself as well as he could with the pail of murky water that had sat untouched during his stay. He stumbled, but did the best he was able. His face was clean, at least, but there was nothing he could do about the putrid, soiled robes that he wore, the same ones from the trial - the same from his arrest, close to a month ago. His greying hair was darkened with grease, and he reeked of vomit and human faeces.

No one was likely to care what he looked like. The only observers would be Ministry officials, and perhaps a few of Potter's nearest and dearest. Still, what Ron had said had cut deeply. Pathetic, he had called him. Not worth hating. But he hated himself, and of all things, he did not want to be remembered as pathetic.

An Auror clanged open the cell door.

"Mr Remus John Lupin," he said, emotionlessly.

"Yes, that's me." The Werewolf's voice was hoarse with disuse, broken. The Auror allowed a little bit of expression onto his face; the wizard was sad, disappointed. Lupin recognised him, vaguely - maybe they had been at Hogwarts together? The Auror confirmed it.

"Albus Dumbledore made the one request that you be accompanied today by someone you knew, not a stranger. So, out of the Gryffindors who had been at Hogwarts while you were, well, they chose me."

Remus laughed bitterly. "You drew the short straw?"

The Auror didn't answer at first. When he did, it was flat. "Something like that." Another pause. "Well, come on then, Lupin, follow me. There are people waiting."

There were people waiting. Many more than Remus had any reason to expect. He was Portkeyed unexpectedly to the main land. His Auror, as he came to think of the wizard who had fetched him that morning led him through a crowd of hissing witches and wizards into a small enclosure. A group of efficient men strapped him to a pole, forcing him to his knees, his face aimed up.

"Lupin, I'll be here with you until the Dementor arrives," Hs Auror spoke hurriedly. "Remember, if you want, you can ask to be blind-folded.

Remus shook his head. He was beyond words now.

Suddenly he felt his whole body chill, and the crowd's noise faded to a dull throbbing. It wouldn't be long now.

Pass on, weak heart, and leave me where I lie;

Go by, go by.

How had it come to this?